


What One Must

by JumpingInMuddlePuddles



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dadza, Dave | Technoblade and Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, Emotional Manipulation, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Ghost Wilbur Soot, Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Kid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Kid TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Kid Wilbur Soot, More comfort than hurt, No beta we die like jschlatt, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Twins Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, What am I doing, Whump, i have been informed the correct word i should be using, no ships, phil in house arrest, set before smp, this is just soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28170474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingInMuddlePuddles/pseuds/JumpingInMuddlePuddles
Summary: Phil loves his kids, he really does, but sometimes, they end up in tricky situations that he always has to wrangle them out of, until Phil gets himself in over his head and he's the one that ends up needing to be saved.AKA:5 times Phil saved his kids and the 1 time they saved him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit & Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 83
Kudos: 1782
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	1. Phil and Wilbur - Cave-In

**Author's Note:**

> note these are based on the characters on the roleplay and not the actual people! also, no ships, that's weird
> 
> tw for this chapter - none that i can think of apart from vague mentions of suffocation 
> 
> Part 1: Phil and Wilbur

An echo of a shout bounced down the cave, vibrating off the walls in a dull resounding ring. It had distorted enough for Phil to not distinguish where the sound had come from, changing so much it no longer sounded like words but pure noise. Like the sound a ghast would make, r the sound of a river flowing over rocks.

Phil paused pickaxe raised over his head to strike the diamond embedded in the stone once again.

“Techno?” He called out, internally cursing at how his voice wobbled. He didn’t know what that sound was, and if it was a mob, he didn’t really want to.

Techno’s voice called from a couple of tunnels away. “Yeah?” He was close, good. The tunnels and caving around him suddenly seemed to close in, like he was the only thing keeping it up. Phi’s heartrate picked up.

“Did you hear that?” He called.

A pause, then a tentative “No…?”

“Okay.” Phil had told Techno and Wilbur to stay together when they were mining, the two were just over twelve years old. But Wilbur had been eager to please this morning, promises of gold ingots and lapis quick on his lips.

“Wilbur?” He knew his younger son was further down in the caves, possibly a few levels down – Wilbur was always the one to be caught up in the excitement of mining, telling Techno that he could do better than him and trying to mine faster, often more dangerous. Phil thought that it might have been because Wil wanted to be as good at something as Techno was at combat.

Wilbur had always been independent, growing bolder and snarkier as Techno got stronger and closer to Phil. Phil didn’t know, however, that Wilbur’s distancing from his dad was not a voluntary thing, as though he had thought that Techno deserved Phil’s praise more than he did.

Phil’s heart hurt to think about it. But he wasn’t blind.

He saw the envious glances shot across the room as Phil presented Techno with a shield, only for his hazelnut eyes to light up in surprise when he saw that Phil had made him one too, as though he hadn’t thought Phil would go through the effort of making Wilbur one. The way he had cradled the wooden shield in his arms, far more delicate and caring about it than Techno, who promptly went out for training and got the thing wrecked.

He saw grief in Wilbur’s eyes as he told him he was going hunting with Techno, that Wilbur should stay home and practise guitar, that he and Wilbur would go out later.

He saw the conflicted warfare within Wilbur’s eyes as he watched Phil run their newfound baby brother, Tommy, a bubble bath, laughing with a boy he had known for a couple of hours harder than he had with Wilbur in weeks.

Phil felt like shit. He was an awful parent. It was just that Techno was so much like him, so full of spirit and raw power, that Phil needed to herd him down the right path, towards morals and justice and freedom before he raised someone deadly.

Even so, Wilbur should have been able to hear him, right? He may have been far away, but the caves were so silent, and sound travelled easily.

“Wilbur?” He called a little louder.

 _Had something happened? He_ swallowed thickly.

The scrabbling of Techno’s feet against the stone as he shimmied down from another tunnel he had found brought Phil from his mind, sticking his head around the corner of the wall, a frown on Techno’s face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Do you know where your brother is?” His voice felt too loud even as he had just asked the question, like a thunderstorm in a cavern.

The shadows on the walls pulled at his nerves, the orange flickering torchlight bathing the tunnel in a dull yellow light. It pulled and agitated his fight, the chill in his spine. When the shade seemed to dance in the firelight, Phil almost forgot to breathe when his eyes snagged them.

Why was he feeling like this? He was fine. The mine was like a second home, he had checked this one for lava, for mob traps, for any sort of danger multiple times before bringing his sons down here. Everything was probably fine, but if it was, then why did he feel so horribly wrong?

Techno’s brows creased down even more. The tension in the air between them seemed to crackle, the wind from the air draft further down in the cavern was not blowing cold air down to them suddenly. The whole world seemed to freeze.

Techno shimmied his pickaxe back into his belt, a deeper concern blossoming across his face. “I think he went further that way, to find gold,” He pointed, and with no reply, Techno looked almost worried, _almost_. “Dad? Are you okay?”

Phil didn’t answer. He didn’t know the answer. He just took a long breath, trying to get stuffy air into his lungs and push his heartbeat down into his chest. Even so, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, wrong, _wrong_. It itched under his skin, along with a slither of protectiveness and a surge of adrenaline.

“I’m going to go look for Wilbur. I think something might have happened.” Phil licked his dry lips and glanced further down the tunnel again. It was illuminated by torches as far as he could see, even so, he didn’t feel safe. He glanced back at Techno. “Stay here, okay?”

Techno blinked big blue eyes, slightly alarmed. “Okay.”

Phil shot him a weak smile, before gripping his pickaxe firmer and heading off further down into the tunnel. He followed the path of torchers that lit the path, and Phil only felt sicker as the tunnel got tighter. Something felt off.

“Wilbur?” He asked tentatively, coming to stop after a minute or so of walking. Silence met him like a brick wall. How much further had Wil gone? The torches cut out a little further down – meaning he was around somewhere – or had continued down without torches? A deep darkness that toyed with the childish fear that lurked at the back of Phil’s mind.

He had made sure both of his sons were equipped with stacks of torches before they had left that morning.

“Wilbur?!” His voice rose to a panicky shout. He felt his patience and calm slip through his fingers like sand.

The scratches on the wall showed someone that had attempted to dig here, but as Phil’s green eyes traced the marks on the wall around the edge of the cave, he realised that at the back wall, the cave seemed to almost jut out a little more. A mound of looser stone against the smooth wall, as he went closer, he heard something that sounded suspiciously like a person, muffed through solid. Wilbur? Phil knew what happened _._

He stopped dead, stomach dropping to his feet.

_A cave in._

_Fuck._

“Oh, god- Wilbur!” His voice broke into a yell down the tunnel, a little more aggressive than he had planned as he choked on his own breath. But he didn’t have time for that now. Who knew what was happening to Wilbur at that moment?

Phil dropped to his knees and began dragging the smaller gravel stones away from the cave in, with the panicked ferocity that only a parent could muster up from the deepest part of themselves.

He got to his feet and attempted to move the large stone that was on the top of the mound, shoving it out of the way with strength unprecedented.

_Wilbur, oh god, Wilbur._

“Hang on, Wils.” Phil gritted his teeth, grabbing his pickaxe once again. He knew the risk of bringing his kids down here, but he was nor prepared for the waiting hole of pain, waiting for his grief to swallow his chest. This was all his fault. Wilbur could be dead, and it was all his fault-

Phil jolted, his core tipping forward as the boulder he was trying to move shifted slightly under his grip. A start. His arms burned with the effort of pushing rock after rock, stone by stone out of the way, further down the tunnel that Wilbur must have been mining. His arms burned with the exertion, but Phil bit his tongue so hard he drew blood.

He didn’t care, though.

He would willingly trade his life for his kids. Once he had moved out all the rocks he could, he began to mine through the stone with his pickaxe, bones aching with the impact of the diamond against stone and the force of his blows.

He moved as fast as possible and prayed to any merciful god out there that Wilbur still had air.

Eventually, oh, so painstakingly slowly that it physically hurt, Phil stuck his hand through the hole he had created, just small enough for his wrist to fit through, and felt cool air on the other side.

He had broken through.

Phil didn’t even give himself a chance to relax, didn’t let himself feel relief, instead pushing forward again, sticking his pickaxe through the whole and pulling and breaking everything in his way, until the hole was big enough for him to get through.

Phil didn’t stop to think of the risks of what he was doing, all his thoughts were focused on Wilbur, on getting to Wilbur as fast as possible. He stuck his feet through and ushed himself through the hole, dark and gaping and pressing in around him, cramping his wings in a painful angle for the moment he was stuck inside, before he was through, and int the cool darkness.

“Wilbur?” He rasped. It was too dark, such a pure black, with only a beam from the shaft that Phil had wiggled through to illuminate his way. The cavern was small, narrow and shallow, too, Phil’s wings brushed the sharp edges and his voice didn’t even echo. Phil reached out, expecting to feel cool stone, but no, he felt something warm, something warm and pulsating.

A hand.

As smooth and calloused as Wilbur’s always were. As Phil’s eyes adjusted, he could focus on the boy on the floor beside him. Phil choked back a sob, and pulled Wilbur’s head onto his lap, running his hands through his son’s hair, slightly matted from a cut on his scalp, but Phil didn’t care.

All he cared about was that his son was here, beside him, warm and breathing and so obnoxiously _alive._

He bunched up the boy in his arms, clutching him tight. Wilbur felt small in his grip, and oh so fragile, like china. Phil was once again wrenched into remembering how young his boys were. Phil cupped Wilbur’s cheek, being able to properly breathe for the first time in a while.

He looked relatively unharmed apart from the bleeding through his hair. That must have been what knocked him unconscious.

Phil’s hands were torn and scraped and bleeding from his attempt to get down in this cavern, but the adrenaline rushing and ringing through his ears made him unaware of the pain.

“Wilbur, son, can you hear me?” He gently tapped the side of Wilbur’s face. The boy mumbled, and in the half light, Phil saw him peak through half-lidded eyelashes. “Mornin, sleepyhead,” Phil teased despite himself.

“Wha’ happen’d?” Wilbur slurred, before looking around further.

“Cave in, Wils.”

Wilbur took a deep breath and went limp again in Phil’s arms. “Fuckin’ gravel.” Phil chuckled; muscles lax with relief and wings subconsciously shielding the pair. If Wilbur could swear, he would be fine.

“What were you doing, you idiot?” Phil asked hoarsely.

Wilbur cracked open an eye and grinned. “Thought I saw some emeralds. Wanted to surprise you.” Phil tutted but didn’t have any real criticisms. His heart swelled at the thought, but then wrenched again. Wilbur put his life in danger for a few emeralds, that he thought would make Phil happy?

“…’M cold.”

Phil shifted Wilbur to one arm, then to the other, as he shrugged off his dark jacket, laying it over Wilbur, who relaxed even further into Phil’s grip.

“You gotta stay awake for me, buddy.” Phil advised. “You hit your head.”

 _“…’Kay_.” His hand tightened in Phil’s grip; hand clammy with sweat. “Please don’t leave, dad,” The raw emotion in his voice caught Phil by surprise. Wilbur never let his guard down like this. It was jarring, to say the least. Phi’s voice caught in his throat. He let go of Wilbur’s hand and looped their pinkies together, just like Phil used to do when they were kids.

“I promise, Wil. I’m not going anywhere.”

“God,” Wilbur smiled half-heartedly. “Because I don’t plan to, either.” Phil held him close to his chest.

It was at this point that Techno decided to appear, his shadow blocking the light that bled into Wilbur’s tunnel. Phil craned his neck.

“Hey, Techno.” He said breathlessly.

He could see Techno watch his face, a tense look upon his face. He then studied Wilbur on the ground, within Phil’s arms and cocooned in his jacket. He seemed to decide that they were both fine, as his body language immediately relaxed, and a smirk crept across his face. “Having all the fun without me, are we boys?”

“You could say that.” Phil said lamely as Wilbur murmured something unintellectually. “Could you please dig us out with that _spritely youth_ and _ineffable spirit_ that you keep going on about.”

Techno flushed angrily, but didn’t say anything in retaliation, dutifully bringing his pickaxe out and started chipping away at the collapsed stone. Phil knew, by the way that Techno’s gaze kept straying to Wilbur that he was secretly relieved, he secretly cared, not that he would admit it over his dead body.

Phil loved his sons.


	2. Phil and Tommy - Enderman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ayy part two out already.
> 
> Vague mentions of blood and wounds as a tw, if theres anything else lemme know
> 
> Phil is trying his best someone help him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proofreading? We don't know her. If there are any mistakes, sorry, i might go an fox them depending on how i feel. Techno's will be out soon, thanks to me friend Spider for the help, ily
> 
> part 2 - tommy and phil

Phil reconned he might be two minutes away from certain death.

But he didn’t care. The only thing he was focused on was Tommy, who was playing at the edge of the forest across from the house. The enderman hadn’t seen him yet, and Tommy hadn’t seen the enderman, but it was only a matter of time.

Phil was stood frozen on the front porch. Techno and Wilbur were inside.

The tall, dark, almost twisted figure of the enderman was stood at the edge of the forest, mere meters from Tommy, the seven-year-old entertaining himself with a wooden sword and practising his skills against the oak tree. Its large, unblinking purple eyes were locked on the boy’s figure.

It he looked up; Tommy would be dead. That is, if Phil didn’t get to him in time. He knew how enderman worked, they struck fast and merciless, Tommy wouldn’t stand a chance. None of his children would. Fighting endermen took years of practise and an expert precision.

His hand itched to his belt and Phil quietly unsheathed his sword and lowered his eyes. It wouldn’t be much better if Phil were the one who had been attacked.

It was daytime, Phil thought it was safe. He wanted to groan. Coincidences were motherfuckers.

He was brought back to the front of his mind as Tommy giggled and hit the oak tree with his sword yet again. He knew how much that wooden sword meant to Tommy. He looked u0p to techno and Wilbur so, so much, but Phil wasn’t blind, and he knew how much the other two mocked and looked down on him despite Tommy’s best efforts.

Despite the guitar he had saved up to buy for Wilbur at Christmas.

Despite the iron ingots he had discovered at the edge of a mine after begging for Phil to dig them out.

Despite begging them to let him watch them train, desperate for any semblance of the comradery the two shared.

Despite trying to fix Techno’s golden sword for him with untrained hands and the sword breaking yet again the day after, and Techno mocking his hard work for it.

Despite the anger and the yelling and the noise that Tommy made, in any hopes of being seen by his siblings, positive or negative.

Phil had tried to include the younger boy, he really had, but Tommy only sought out his older brother’s approval, turning to Phil when they had abandoned him yet again.

Phil would never forget the way Tommy’s eyes shone with awe when Phil hsd handed him the harmless wooden sword, the boy screeching at Techno that he was ‘going to be just like Techie’, even after the latter had told him to go away.

“Tommy,” Phil said at a tone just above a whisper, eyes lowered as he took a step forward and off the porch. He couldn’t hear himself speak adrenaline was ringing too loudly in his ears. “Don’t look up.”

Phil’s eyes flicked up to Tommy through his lashes. There must have been something in his tone that sounded serious enough for the kid to actually follow instructions, or maybe he had sensed the danger behind him. He was frozen midway through a swing, his blue eyes swapping from looking at the ground and looking back at Phil.

“Don’t move. You’re okay, can you stay still for me?” Tommy gave a hesitant nod, and Phil crept closer, ever so conscious of the enderman staring straight at Tommy from the shadows of the trees like some sort of monster Tommy had had fears about when he was younger.

“It’s gonna be fine, Toms, can you just listen to me, yeah?”

He didn’t reply. Just a couple more meters, and Phil could grab him. He could whisk Tommy away from the danger outside and bac into the comfort of their home. Just a little more.

Every time Phil edged closer, so did the thing, it moved above Tommy, towering above him with that stare, as if it wad daring Tommy to loo up, to question its power and ferocity, bating Tommy so it could clamp it’s jaws around his shoulder, and Tommy would cry and blood would spirt, and-

Phi’s hand clamed over Tommy’s eyes just as the boy began to twist his head around with eyes blazing with terror. Phil moulded his body around the kid, wings shielding Tommy’s face from the enderman. Tommy dropped the sword.

Phil glanced up on impulse, second nature at this point for him to gather data on his surroundings- and- shit-

As they made eye contact, angry green against blank purple. The creature began to squirm and contort, growing and twitching aggressively, a previously unseen jaw hanging, unhinged, from its face loke a snake’s. Its limbs cracked as it grew and made a noise that seemed other worldly, like it was screaming without a voice box.

Phil’s heart dropped in horror.

“Toms, don’t open your eyes!” He couldn’t risk getting this thing even more riled up. Tommy let out a whimper as Phil clutched him in his left arm and uncovered his eyes, wielding his sword in his right. The tremble in Tommy’s shoulders worsened.

Phil surged forward. He didn’t want to attack with Tommy so close, but risking putting Tommy down somewhere safe meant even more potential attack from this fucking thing.

Throwing the sword up over his head and down with startling speed, Phil managed to skim the edge of the enderman’s deep purple skin. It wrenched itself away in the blink of an eye.

Tommy clutched small fiats in Phil’s clothes even tighter. Phil himself grit his teeth and readjusted his grip on his blade. This damn thing was going down, for even daring to try and come close to his family.

Back and forth and back and forth. Phil tried to hit the creature before it managed to bite him with that dislocated, snapping jaw, that shut with the force that Phil knew could break bone. Every time he landed a blow, dark particles of matter exploded out of the place it had been hit, hot and burning and looking utterly harmless as they flitted to the ground like a combination of snow and ash.

“Its okay, Toms, I’m here, I’m here.”

His arms ached and his right forearm was bloodied with an attack by the thing’s gruesome jaw, before finally, after what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes but felt like decade, Phil lunged and impaled the thing one final time, before withdrawing out of its area of attack.

He saw it splutter and shriek through ragged – what he assumed to be – breaths, and collapsing to the ground, motionless.

Phil didn’t let go of Tommy until more than a minute later. He crouched on the ground just outside their house and immediately Tommy wiggled out of his grip, a sob ripping from the boy’s chest.

Phil let him breath, he himself taking a moment to focus once more, no longer blinded by his instinct to protect. He didn’t think Tommy had ever encountered an enderman before, and never so close to his home. It was bone chilling to think about.

“I’m sorry.” His kid’s voice was loud in the silence but trembled as the words left his lips.

“For what?”

Tommy looked completely lost for a moment, before he glanced back up at Phil, big eyes wet and glazed with unshed tears. His lip quivered and Phil opened his arms in a welcoming sweep, before Tommy through himself at him, warm and small in Phil’s arms.

Tommy’s fingers entangled in Phil’s clothes, his hands small and soft and innocent and young, unlike Phil’s, that were calloused and rough and blistered, that had been forged in fire and warfare.

There were little red burns up Tommy’s left arm, the one that had been clutched around Phi’s waist. He must have caught some of those fucking red particles and got burned in the process. They looked nasty, too.

“Tommy, we need to treat your burns. We don’t want them getting infected, okay?” Phil said as gently as he could. Tommy withdrew and nodded, Phil scooped him up in his arms and headed back towards the house.

“Is that thing coming back?” Tommy asked, no anger or noise in his tone what-so-ever, just some sort of soft vulnerability. 

“No, no, its not, Toms. You don’t need to worry. I killed it, yeah?”

“Yeah.” There was a pause. “Aren’t you going to pick up that round green thing it dropped?”

“The ender pearl can wait. Your wellbeing is more important.”

Phil decided to pretend he didn’t notice the hitch of Tommy’s breath on inhale, and his gut wrenched.

He brought Tommy back into the warmth, back into the safety and comfort of their home, that smelt vaguely like pine wood and seashells. Phil kicked the door firmly closed behind him and set Tommy down gently in one of the seats at the table by the fire.

“I’m just going to get some cream and some bandages, okay, Tommy? I’ll be right back.”

Phil couldn’t help the wave of guilt that crashed upon him as he sorted through the cupboard in his bedroom upstairs. Why was he such a shit father? There had been much better ways of handling that scenario, and because of his idiocy, Tommy had gotten injured. It was all his fault.

By the time Phil had finished his mini crisis up the stairs and was slipping back down them, he paused, leaning against the banister as he took in the scene below him.

Tommy was still in his seat, his eyes were still big and afraid, but Wilbur was knelt beside him, mumbling what seemed to be soft reassurances into the seven-year-old’s ear as he stuffed a red handkerchief into the boy’s hand, as Techno patiently sat at Tommy’s feet and untied his shoelaces slipping small boots off the boy’s feet. Phil wanted to cry. How he loved his boys so, so much.

Even the little things, just like this, reminded him why he had taken these three boys in, why he risked life and limb to protect them. They were his family, and it seemed as though they were becoming each other’s family too.

Even when Phil landed at the bottom of the stairs, Tommy shot him a glance and an attempt at his usual smile, which was progress. Phil sat in the seat beside him and dutifully began applying the cream to Tommy’s hand.

Wilbur said something about being brave, and for once, Techno hadn’t said anything snarky. It was almost peaceful. Once Phil had wrapped Tommy’s arm in clean bandages, he had leapt from the table with renewed pizazz.

“You’re right, Wilbs! I am so brave, aren’t I!” He turned back to them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Should have seen me out there – facing down ten thousand of those creatures, dad there was my sidekick, with one swoop of my sword they were all down – like, _kabam_!”

Tommy continued to spew his make believe, almost as though it was his way of coping with what happened. The other three watched patiently as Tommy leapt about the room, the pain in his arm forgotten and a renewed life to his step.

The cold purple eyes and panicked, blind jolting must have seemed ages away from the warm inviting fire and the tentative gazes of his family.

Phil treated and wrapped his own injured arm under the concerned gaze of Techno’s peripheral vision.

“We saw what happened.” Techno murmured across the table; Wilbur stuck as Tommy’s entertainer. “It was pretty scary.”

Phil shook the excess adrenaline from his hands and gave Techno his attempt at a grin. “Yeah. Thanks for looking after him.”

Techno grumbled something under his breath about iron ingots, and the conversation slowed again, as Tommy continued to jabber on about what had happened. It was a while before Techno spoke again.

“You’re probably gonna be hesitant to let any of us out, again.” He said “If you want, Wilbur and I can take Tommy out training with us, so he’s not out on his own.”

Phil smiled. “That would be nice. Thanks, Techno.”

Tommy gasped. “My sword! Its still outside.”

Wilbur rose to his feet. “I cam go get it-” He cut himself off as Tommy grabbed his arm, eyes wide and pleading.

“No, its okay. It can wait. Can we stay like this, please?”

Techno leant over and ruffled Tommy’s hair. “Sure, bud, we can stay like this as long as you want.”

Tommy’s face split into a grin, eyes big and bright with wonder. Phil could guess what he was thinking, he was in awe that his brothers were here, paying attention to him, talking to him like he was a person. Just for a moment, everything felt perfect. With one last glance at the door to ensure it was properly closed, Phil sank into his chair and basked in the eccentricity of his family.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> techno and phil vs the nether

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this very roughly at like three in the morning. I also dont think i got techno's character down, but whatever. if you see a typo no you didnt 
> 
> Man this whole series makes phil seem like a forgetful parent-
> 
> tw for a couple descriptions of burns and a wee bit of discrimination but its manly techno being insecure.

“It’s warm.” Techno said quietly as he stepped through the portal and into the hellscape which was known as the nether. Phil cocked his head curiously as he guided Techno up the netherrack steps and onto the cobblestone bridge he had constructed, that arched up and above the lava lake.

“Warm isn’t exactly the word I’d use.” Phil chuckled. He would describe it as suffocating with a dry, dry heart, with dust that floated through the air and burned throats in every inhalation. Techno looked pensive for a moment, before shaking his head and carrying on.

He looked strange dressed in his coat and striding ahead of Phil and further across the stone bridge. Phil couldn’t help but think about how at home Techno looked. He was half Piglin, after all, it made sense.

Phil had found Techno in the nether when he was maybe two three. Because he had been so young, Techno did not remember much from before Phil anything about his Piglin clan or his birth parents.

_Not that he didn’t see Phil as 100% his dad now, though._

Phil was okay with that, though. He wanted to know what had happened, where Techno’s biological family was, yes, but his son seemed happy where he was, with Phil and Wilbur and Tommy, and their peace of mind was more important than Phil’s greedy curiosity.

Phil watched Techno examine their surroundings as he followed him up the bridge, wary to stay in the middle of the bridge. Lava had always been one of the things Phil was iffy about – not fear, never fear, but it made him uncomfortable, to say the least. Burning alive was not something Phil wanted to do anytime soon.

Wilbur had chosen not to come today. He had ever really liked the idea of the nether from how Phil described it, but Techno seemed to posses a morbid curiosity about where he came from. Once the boys were now 13, he deemed them mature enough – and Phil mentally prepared enough – to bring them with him. Granted that Techno always stay by his side.

The lava down below illuminated the entire cavern of dark stone with its glow, and Techno’s long ink braid caught the light and seemed to radiate. Phil was struck with how at home Techno seemed, diamond sword clutched in his grip and red cape flowing behind him.

Once they reached the end of the cobblestone, Techno seemed to hesitate for just a second before stepping onto the netherrack. Phil joined him as the heat from the ground started to diffuse through his boots and warm his toes.

Techno seemed very far away for a moment, eyes distant, and Phil touched his arm gently, concern bubbling in his gut. Techno wasn’t usually like this. This wasn’t normal Techno. Cocky, arrogant Techno that always beat Wilbur at hand-to-hand combat and bullied Tommy at every possibility he could get his hands on.

“You alright?” He asked. Techno blinked, then smirked.

Techno didn’t meet his eye, instead studying his hands like they were the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah. Just seems a little familiar, that’s all. Please continue.”

Phil eyed him one last time, before unsheathing his blade and pointing further up the steep netherrack slope. He tried to act normal. Even though his concern for his kid was growing every second. “You see that mob up there, the brown thing with the yellow eyes? That’s a magma cube. They’re remarkably like slimes. When you hit them, they multiply.”

“Do they cause a lot of damage?” Techno asked, almost warily.

Phil blinked. “Not as much as some of the things around here. C’mon, I want to show you all the mobs from a distance before we return, okay?”

Techno looked to the ground for a moment, his chest shuddering with an inhalation before he looked back up at Phil. “Will we, uh, will we be seeing some piglins?”

_Oh, so that’s what this was about?_ Phil gently grabbed Techno’s hand and ran his thumb along the boy’s knuckles. They were surprisingly cold. “Don’t worry about it, Techno. We can if you want to, but if you don’t, that’s fine too, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Techno said simply, his shoulders sagging down slightly. Phil tried to find something to say, anything to say, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and his throat was impossibly dry from the heat around them. What could he say? He knew less than Techno did about his family.

Phil knew nothing of the way Techno was stared at and whispered about when he used to take trips with Phil into the market in the nearest village. He knew nothing of the self-loathing Techno faced when he was younger, when the 8-year-old would stare at himself in the mirror and will himself to just be normal.

“Techno, I-” He was cut off suddenly by the familiar gurgling shriek of a ghast. He looked up and saw one floating directly above him, translucent mouth wide open, as if it were gathering air for a fireball-

“Run!”

Techno grabbed Phil with startling force – presumably with more force than Techno had intended, and Phil snapped his head for an exist. They could go back the way they came, but that would been drawing the ghast and anything else hostile nearby towards the portal.

“This way-” Techno let go of Phil’s hand as Phil took the lead, drawing the two down beside the lava and darting across the shores

He moved with methodical caution, careful to keep a few meters between them and the lava. Even from here, Phil could feel the raw heat radiating from the lava and shuddered. He heard the ghast again, and he ducked on instinct.

It hit one of his wings.

A burning sensation erupted as the feathers started to twist and shrivel under the fire. He bit his tongue to not cry out in pain, doubling forward momentarily. He half expected Techno to bump into him, to say something, but he didn’t, the kid was probably stressed to.

The smell of burned flesh filled the air as Phil tried not to gag after reaching back and patting the fire out with his hand That was going to hurt like a bitch once his adrenaline wore off.

Phil had two fire-resistance potions in his bag by the rather not risk it. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience, especially if it was your first-time drinking fire-resistance, like it must be for Techno, and he only had two – meaning if they wore off, they were gone for good. If he used his now and then fell into lava, he’d be dead. Phil could put up with a little pain.

Phil ducked as he ran, a stray fireball skimming his sleeve as he hurriedly patted out the flame. He was so caught up in trying to put the fire out that he didn’t even feel the netherrack crumbling underfoot as he ran. He didn’t even realise the ghast had stopped chasing him.

As Phil finally slowed to a walk to catch his heaving breath, he paused, glancing up yo see that the ghast had indeed stopped following him. Odd.

“Hey, Techno, did you-“

Techno wasn’t behind him.

_Techno wasn’t behind him._

Phil had never run faster. Back the way he came, darting around chunks of netherrack spewed across the path. The heat fro the lava burned his eyes and his lungs felt impossibly dry. That didn’t matter. He left Techno behind.

Phil spun around the corner of the mountain, wedged between the steep wall of spiky netherrack and the shore that led down to the lava, and stopped dead. He could see straight up the path towards the bridge that led back home. No sign of Techno. No flash of a smirk or whisk of long, braided hair.

Where was his son? He had been behind Phil just a moment ago, he could have sworn, but now he was nowhere in sight. Phil’s eyes subconsciously strayed to the lava. _No, he couldn’t have._ Techno wasn’t stupid, the boy had Phil’s own cunning and plenty of ambition and intelligence that had sprung from his own mind.

“Techno! Techno?” Phil yelled over the crackle of the lava and the groan of a far-off mob. “Techno, come back!” Phil scanned the sky – the dome of concrete arching above the hellscape and spotted a white floating mob further up the mountain side. It appeared it was aiming at something. _Techno._ Phil’s heart both rose into his throat in relief and plummeted in dread.

It must have attacked him when Phil drew ahead. Techno must have climbed up with no other exit in sight.

Looking down into his satchel, Phil quickly drew out his crossbow, His eyes were watering with the burning dust in the air and his hands shook an almighty amount as he struggled to fit the arrow into the bow, but when he finally slotted it in place and lifted it up to the sky to aim it at the ghast, his hands were still. How dare you hurt my family.

Poised. Aimed. Fired.

The arrow struck the ghast right in the middle, it made one final horrible shrieking sound before it dissipated into a million particles of white dust, almost like snow.

It was silent for a moment.

“Phil?” Techno’s voice sounded raw, almost small.

“Techno, hold on, I’m coming to you, okay? Stay there. It’ll be dangerous for you to climb down.” Phil surveyed the cliff face, it was steep and spiky, but that did not stop him from throwing himself at the cliff face, pulling himself up bit by bit. Rocks dug into his palms and his feet scrambled for footholds, bit he didn’t care. He just needed to get to Techno. Make sure his son was okay.

Finally, he drew himself up and onto the flat ledge Techno occupied and surveyed his son., muscles weak with relief.

He looked like shit. His shoulders were trembling, and his knees were pulled up to his chest. Eyes were glassy and almost unseeing as he stared down at the lava below. He wasn’t crying, no, in all of time Phil knew Techno, the boy had never cried, but his face was ashen grey.

“Techno?” Phil asked softly. The boy turned to him suddenly, as if just realising that he was there.

“Dad,” He said quietly, and he jolted forward, but then drew back, as if he wanted to hug Phil, but held himself back.

Phil took initiative, shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around the boy. His shoulders trembled in Phi’s grip and the man held him tighter, pressing Techno’s head to his chest.

“I’m here, the ghast is gone, Techno. You’re okay now.”

This felt strange, Phil pondered as his arms tightened around Techno, the boy silent and shivering despite the warmth. Techno was never scared of mobs. He laughed in their faces, he cackled as they groaned, laughed as they died. Techno didn’t fear them, he knew he had the skill to fend them off, defeat them, and he did.

_Why was he so torn up about a ghast?_

Sure, he had never seen one before, and their fireballs and ominous nature were a little creepy, but nothing too scary. They were easy to shoot down, run away from. And Techno hadn’t reacted like this to any sort of mob he hadn’t seen before ever.

“Techno?” Phil asked quietly. The boy stilled in his arms.

“I-I thought,” He sniffled, but did not cry. “I thought you were going to leave me here. Because I’m half Piglin, you know. I was going to try and say something to convince you otherwise, but then the ghast attacked, and you let go of my hand and it was attacking me, I didn’t have a bow and I couldn’t find you, and- and-” The words tumbled out Techno’s mouth like a waterfall, words slurring together as he spoke. Phil felt his heart ache.

_He thought Phil was going to abandon him? Never in a million years._ Phil held him closer.

“Techno, listen to me, okay?” Phil said. “I would never, ever leave you out here by yourself. I would never leave you anywhere without you wanting me to, without a plan of action. You thought I’d toss you in here and forget about you? You think I’d do that? Just because you look a little different?”

Had Techno always been so small in his arms?

“B-But the people- down at the market-”

“Those arrogant little pricks can go fuck themselves.” Phil broke him off shortly. Techno flinched a little, and he immediate soften his tone. “You’re my son, and I love you.”

Techno jerked his head u to look Phil dead in the eye, as if he were searching for a lie. When he didn’t seem to find one, he jerked forward again and pressed his head into Phil’s chest, arms tightening around his sides.

“Do you think Tommy looks at you any differently because you’re half Piglin? Do you think Clarencio or Carl or Clementine look at you any different? Wilbur, Niki, me? Of course we don’t Techno. You’re _my son_ , and no dumb heritage is going to change that.” He gently pulled away, but held on tight to Techno’s arms, fearing that if he let go completely, Techno might shatter.

“Now, did that ugly thing burn you anywhere? I have a couple of fire-resistance potions in my bag, they wont work as well as healing ones, but those are back home, and I’m sure resistance can lessen the pain. Fireballs really hurt you know, and they can get infected really easily if you’re out here for too long-”]

“Dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, champ. Let’s go back home, yeah?”

“Please.” There was a pause. “Don’t tell Wilbur.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


	4. Phil and Tommy and Techno - Blizzard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blizzard time!!
> 
> tw for violence, and a non-graphic description of vomit, and hyperthermia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh thus one is shit but i wanted to get it out and finish it or i'll never write it lmao
> 
> if you saw a typo - there are many - no you didnt. This is more tommy angst than anything else so sorry, the next one will be good i promise. im so sleep deprived ahah
> 
> tommy and techno and phil - blizzard

More snow began to fall.

Tommy was already knee deep. Walking through the pine forest was difficult and it only seemed to be getting harder by the minute. Tommy couldn’t even feel the ground underneath him anymore.

It wasn’t meant to be like this. Him, Techno, Wilbur and Phil, out on a family trip into the pine forest around their house to look for wolves to tame after Wilbur complained about a lack of dogs.

It had meant to be simple, fun. That was until the snow began to fell, and the storm picked up, until the pine tree toppled, separating Tommy and Techno from their dad and brother, and as the blizzard grew worse, the pair were in the other direction.

Tommy felt rather numb. Techno’s hand was clasped tightly in his own, but he couldn’t feel his own fingers, couldn’t wiggle them in Techno’s grip.

The wind whipped at their faces and Tommy’s breath crystalised in front of him before being whisked away in the breeze as they pushed through the snowy terrain.

It was so cold.

The biting temperature rattled Tommy to the core and a dull, chilling ache set in on his bones. On an ordinary day, Tommy could have stopped to marvel at the white wonderland around them, perhaps even through a few snowballs, but not now.

Tommy squinted through the icy rain back at Techno. The older boy, only 14, limped after him as Tommy pulled him along.

The blond’s concern only grew as he tugged harder on Techno’s arm, the only response he received was a jolt and a stumble forward. No snarky comment or physical scolding happened. It was as though Techno didn’t even seem to notice.

This was bad, techno was half Piglin, right? Tommy had never seen a Piglin before, but he knew they came from the nether. Nether species weren’t suited to the overworld climate in general, let alone snow. This was bad. It was as though Techno’s body was starting to shut down as his actions became more sluggish.

Tommy looked forward and set his jaw, pushing down his rising fear. They needed to find Phil, and fast, but he couldn’t hear anything but his own shallow panting and the roar of the wind in his ears.

He might have been almost there, almost at the field that separated the forest from his home, until suddenly the woods didn’t look familiar anymore.

Everything was coated in a thick layer of ice and snow. The shadows deepened and the trees seemed to twist and contort, and snow kept falling. Snow was always falling, whisked along by the wind and Tommy could hardly see.

His foot caught on something deep within the snow, and, with a yelp of surprise, he landed face firth in the snow. It was in his mouth ad eyes and ears and it was so immensely cold. Tommy pushed up slowly and tried to white the melting ice from his face. He struggled to weak feet. His hands had stopped throbbing at this point, Tommy could hardly move them now.

Some snow trickled off his hair and down past his layers of soaked clothing and down his back.

Tommy sun around and, to his horror, Techno was nowhere to be seen.

“Techie?” He asked softly, lungs too frozen with the cold to produce anything above a whisper. Tommy dived forward into the snow, raking his hands through it and ignoring the fresh pain. His hand touched something that felt like a writs and Tommy yanked it upwards. Techno’s whole body seemed to move with it and onto Tommy’s chest, who almost fell backwards with the added weight on his weak knees.

He looped his arms around Techno’s chest. He needed to find them shelter, or at least somewhere to stay momentarily, so Tommy could recover. He needed a moment to do so. He pulled the two up against the base of a pine tree, clutching Techno’s form to his chest.

He was heavy, wrapped in multiple layers of clothing but it didn’t seem to do anything to help. He was completely limp, and if not for his glazed, half-lidded eyes, Tommy would have thought him unconscious. But he was not, more, paralysed.

“Wake up, dickhead.” Tommy croaked. His tongue seemed to be failing him, it felt too big in his mouth. Everything felt dizzy and he didn’t have the energy to try and Shake Techno awake. Not that that would be any help.

It was taking all his efforts to keep himself upright, he trembled, but his arms were weak. He didn’t have the strength to hold Techno together. His clothes were wet with ice and snow and the raging storm hit soaked fabric only made the chill worse tenfold. The cold seeped through his trousers from the ground but Tommy didn’t find it within himself to care. He wanted to cry but he didn’t have the strength. It was so cold.

His nose was bright red and panic began to rise up his throat like bile. His hands refused to cooperate like they used to. The temperature was slowly dropping. They needed to move, but in which way?

He let out a cough, and immediately stopped. It felt like his throat was being grated with cold air. Phil would come.

_Dad would come, right?_

If not for Tommy, then for Techno. No one in the family really liked Tommy, and Tommy knew this well enough, Loud, aggressive, irresponsible Tommy, that the others spent more time scolding than treating him like an actual person. Somewhere inside, Tommy knew that if Phil noticed the cruel spite in Techno’s words or the harshness of Wilbur’s negligence towards their youngest member, that he would step in. But he didn’t, and to an 11-year-old Tommy, that was the worst sort of abandonment.

None of them liked Tommy, but he was one of them, and Phil was too nice to let them kick him out, right? He wouldn’t leave Tommy in the snow, not when Techno was here. Techno always took priority, Tommy should have even used t it by now, but it never stung any less when Phil denied him a hug to go and speak with Techno or laugh with Wilbur.

Tommy was young. Tommy didn’t understand emotions. He just knew that his dad liked Techno more than Tommy. And that was okay, who would like Tommy best? Loud, insensitive Tommy who ruined everything he touched and got in the way every time he stepped into a room. It was the least Tommy could do to get Techno back alive, but even at that simple task, Tommy was failing.

_Because he’s 14 and you’re 11_. A voice said quietly at the back of his mind. _Why should you have to look after him? It should be the other way around_.

_I think Techno is dying_. Tommy responded angrily inside his head, and the voice was quiet. He let out a shuddering breath again.

He didn’t know how long he sat there listening for someone or something in the wind around them over the roaring of adrenaline in his ears. Every now and again he nudged Techno, but the boy seemed like he was out cold.

Tommy paused and squinted into the snow in front of him. There was something coming towards him, limping, with a large, domineering silhouette.

_Phil didn’t usually limp - unless he had hurt himself in the snow_? Tommy thought, warily tugging Techno closer, his icy eyes never leaving the figure that got closer. It was twilight now; the sky was steadily darkening, and Tommy knew it would only get colder as the sun slowly vanished.

“Dad…?” He asked tentatively to the approaching figure. Even if it weren’t dad, he could still ask for their help. Strangers were usually kind, were they not.

It was only when the figure let out an inhuman gurgle and groan did Tommy realise what it was. Zombie. Not Phil, _not Phil, not Phil_. As the undead creature neared, Tommy saw green, peeling skin and glassy fisheyes, and panicked. He hadn’t brought a sword out, and he doubted Techno had either. It was meant to be fun, there was never meant to be any danger.

“Stay back, fucker.” Tommy growled. He couldn’t feel his legs anymore. That was nice, it wasn’t so cold anymore. It was nice, he stopped trembling.

He only had an iron axe. Drawing it from the loop around his belt, Tommy struggled to sit further up against the tree, shifting a limp Techno to his left arm and waving the axe in his right in a desperate attempt to make it _go away._

Tommy gagged on the smell pf the burning skin.

His arm ached and his desperation grew as it limped closer. He waved the axe up and down, but his limbs felt heavy and sluggish and his skin felt covered the way wet fabric was slick against wet skin. It was probably within lunging distance, now, and as it took one last lurching step forward, rotting arms stretched outward to grab onto his arm, Tommy screamed.

He flung the axe around and struck the zombie through the arms, sending it reeling backwards momentarily. He kicked up snow with his foot, the one that still had some resemblance of feeling within it.

That’s what Techno had always taught him, to exploit everything around him that could give him an advantage in battle. The zombie groaned before coming at him again. Tommy set his jaw, but before he could even prepare to attack the undead thing again, something pale flashed in his vision, swooping in from the tree above and decapitating the zombie in one fluid motion. Tommy shivered again.

The attacker stopped with his sword raised as the zombie fell to the side, revealing a man with a green bucket hat – that Wilbur had bought him once for Christmas – and dirty blond hair.

“Tommy, Techno? Oh my god, Techno!”

Tommy flinched back and was splattered with hot, zombie blood and he threw his head to the side and gagged again. It burned his skin against the ice of his cheek. His arm tightened around his brother, as he wiped the vomit from his chin and looked back up at their saviour.

“Phil-?” He didn’t have to stay awake for much longer, Phil was here. He felt an overwhelming sense of relief. After closing his eyes, he would go the rest of the way… he just needed to sleep for a moment. It was probably warm in his dream.

Vaguely, hr thought Phil was shouting.

Tommy would answer him in a minute. It was hard to formulate an answer, for some reason. He was too slow. He tried to go back to sleep, his arms went slack.

Phil kept shouting; his voice was growing louder. Finally, Tommy decided to try to answer him, but he couldn’t. When he tried to raise his hand – did it even move?

Maybe it did. Suddenly, he was being jerked violently. When had he fallen into the snow, it pressed against his face.

“No, don’t sleep, Tommy. Do you hear me? Wake up, champ, look at me.”

Tommy’s dream dissolved. He really was shaking, but not with shivers. It was almost impossible to get his head up, his entire skull felt heavy, but it seemed as though Tommy didn’t seem to have to worry about that, Phil’s warm arm was tucked under his arm, holding him upright. He peaked open an eye.

“That’s it,” Phil held him upright with one hand, Techno was clutched in the other. “Stay awake, Tommy, stay awake.”

Tommy couldn’t understand why he sounded so worried. Everything was fine. Phil was here, Techno would be fine.

“Tell me what happened, Tommy, hey,”

“Sorry, sorry,” Tommy mumbled, holding his arms closer to his chest. “Couldn’t find you, had to get Techno out. He won’t wake up. Tried to find you, dad, zombie,”

Phil’s arms were tense, and his eyes were wet as he looked down at Tommy. “Don’t worry, Tommy. I’ve got you now. Techno will be fine. I’m so proud of you, Tommy, you did so well.”

Dad was proud? Tommy smiled blearily. That was good…

The next thing Tommy knew was that Phil was kicking open the door to their cabin. It swung so hard it slammed against the wall. The hot air hit him like a wall. Tommy was carried from in Phil’s arms into someone else’s arms, strong and lean and fluffy against his skin, as though they were wearing a sweater.

“ _Wilbs?_ ”

Wilbur looked down and shot him a reassuring grin. “It’s just me, Tommy, don’t worry,” Wilbur carried Tommy over to the fire and propped him up against the sofa. Wilbur himself was bright red in the face, and his hair was still damp with snow. Phil must have brought him back before going out and looking for Techno and Tommy.

“Get him to talk to you,” Phil called from across the room, eyes shining with worry as they met Wilbur’s hazelnut irises. “I think they have hypothermia.”

“Okay. Is Tech alright?” Wilbur asked as he tugged off Tommy’s boots and pulled off his drenched coat. The warmth from the fire seemed as though it was a physical barrier, the way it radiated form the flames like hot sunbeams Tommy blinked slowly, as some of the numbness started to recede in his toes and feeling crept back into his arms.

Phil lay Techno down beside him as well, tossing blankets over the two.

“What’s wrong with Techie?” Tommy murmured as Phil wiped the zombie blood and vomit from his cheek with the cuff of his sweater. Phil jerked his head up in surprise, like he hadn’t realised Tommy was conscious. He gave the boy a shaky smile.

“His organs aren’t used to the cold as much as ours are, that’s all. He just needs some rest, like you do, and he’ll be fine.”

“Oh, okay.” Tommy said simply is head lolling back against the arm of the chair. Wilbur was curled up beside him and had tossed a blanket over Tommy’s legs.

There was a long pause of content, comfortable silence. Wilbur had long since fallen asleep, and Techno had yet to wake up again, but his breaths were long and steady. Tommy was warm once again. He wiggled his toes, and his shirt was dry.

“…Tommy?” Phil said eventually. Tommy jerked up from where he had been watching the flames crackle and glow, over to where Phil was sat.

“Yeah?”

“I am so proud of you.” Phil’s green eyes were brimming with pride and gratitude. “You kept Techno safe, you kept yourself and him alive. You stuck together, and you were headed in the right direction.”

Tommy blinked at him in shock. “But- the zombie-”

“You handled it so well, Tommy You used your axe, that was so brave. I don’t know what I would do If I lost any of my sons. Not just Techno. I know you and Wilbur think he’s my favourite, but I promise you he’s not. I just need to look after him more. He could be deadly if he wanted to. I wsnt to keep all of us safe.” Phil admitted with a quirk of his lips. “But I’m proud to call you my son, Toms. Never forget that.”


	5. Phil And Techno And Wilbur and Tommy - Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream shows up at Philza’s home, looking for soldiers. Phil is not happy about it
> 
> Set pre-cannon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> techno and philza badically disproved the sbi cannon :(( its so sad but i ain’t gonna let that stop me. besides, if there’s something i love more than family, it’s found family. 
> 
> also the fridge thing is still cannon???? wtf philza sort it out
> 
> oh and merry christmas to those who celebrate btw
> 
> tw - mentions of war, a little violence

There was someone at the door.

Phil paused, mug of tea raised to his chin and he shot a glance back at the hallway. No one ever visited. Their home was so far out in the middle of no where that when they made plans to visit someone, it was usual Phil who made the journey. It was so deep into the forest that no one could stumble against it accidentally. They hadn't made any plans.

This felt wrong. There was something strange, almost halted in the air. It was too tense, too stiff. Somehow, even the knocks at the door felt wrong.

Techno, who was sat across in the living room, fiddling with his axe, looked up at Phil at the same time, almost as though he had had the same thought. Phil pressed a finger to his lips as the eighteen year old nodded, and quietly darted up the stairs. To warn Wilbur and Tommy.Just in case.

Phil's gaze slid across to the sheathed sword that rested innocently on the mantelpiece, and he grabbed it quietly before going to open the door.

It was Dream.

Phil was automatically on guard.

The man was tall, still young, with lanky but lean muscles that Tommy would no doubt possess when he grew a little meat on his bones, and he had fluffy hair just like Wilbur. Two painted black eyes stared Phil down from the porcelain mask the man wore, that concealed everything but his mouth.

"Hello, Philza." Dream said, with a cheery pleasantness so false it set Phil's teeth on edge. There was a reason he had become admin of the entire sever at such a young age. No body truthful became so powerful, crept up the vine of politics that fast. And Phil knew how leaders like Dream rose to power so fast. Lies and manipulation. 

"Good morning, Dream." Phil said, purposefully loud so that perhaps his boys could hear and brace themselves if anything happened. "May i ask, what are you doing so far out from the SMP?"

"All land is my SMP, Phil. I was just passing through. Am I not allowed to travel through my own country?" Dream said simply, and something about his whole demeanour made Phil distinctly uncomfortable. Maybe it was the loose way he held herself or the way he hands were held behind his back in a weird way, like his angels were bent against himself and he had been stretched in the wrong places.

"I was only making small talk. No need to brag." Phil forced a chuckle and fought down a sneer. There was no need to be hostile, he told himselfharshly. Dream hadn't done anything wrong.Yet.

Dream laughed again, but it sounded wrong on his lips as he strung his fingers through his dirty blond hair. "I may have been passing through, but there are a few things i need to discuss with you, Philza."

Phil shifted and deftly stood further out into the porch, shutting the door behind him. "Which is?" Something indescribable settled in his chest. A knot, strung tight and thick; discomfort that was palpable and horrible. It resurfaced something buried inside him, too deep to break the tension but transparent through the surface. Dream must have notice,d, but he didn't make any effort of commenting on Philza's tense form.

"As you know, I am admin of this SMP, which means I notice everything that goes on around here. And i have to say, i've noticed a bit of... unrest among the citizens here."

"If you're insinuating that I'm one of your _'unrestful citizens',_ I'm afraid you're mistaken." Phil said defensively, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes straying to the netherite sword that lay oh so casually at Dream's hip. "I'm perfectly content out here."

"Yes, well." Even without seeing his facial expressions, Phil felt like prey being sized up by a predator. "To combat those who are unsatisfactory with my rule, my plan is to assemble a task force of sorts, that can work directly under me, assisting me in making sure everyone is satisfied with my rule. I just stopped by to see if any of your boys would be interested in such an opportunity."

"You want them to join your army." Phil said drily, but he felt hostility creep up his arms. “You want to use violence to keep the crowds in check.”

Dream scoffed. "I wouldn't call it an _army_. Call it an elite royal guard, if that makes you feel better. It would be a good chance to get high up in the country's politics, i'm just saying. My favour is a powerful thing to gain."

Phil's lip curled up and a disgusted anger bubbled in his throat. Is this what politics had come to these days?

"You just want to get the best fighters on your side,so if anyone really does try to rebel, you'll be able to crush them without lifting your own finger. It’s vile." Phil snapped. Dream seemed to size him up a little more, as though he had underestimated the man when he had first laid eyes up on them, and he took a singular step backwards.

"Call it what you want, Phil." Dream said briskly, his tone a little harder than before. "I can't help but notice you have three young men at your disposal, do you not?"

"They're not _‘at my_ disposal’. They're real people. They can think for themselves." Phil said quickly. Dream rocked back on his heels.

"People or not, by order of me and my republic, you must do what i say." The words sounded foreign on his tongue, as though he wasn't used to conducting so much power in blackmail. Phil wanted to smirk. Dream using his status as a threat meant he was genuinely afraid of Phil or his family. Maybe not afraid, not yet, but certainly wary.

Philza had been one of the most powerful players on the server in his time. He had been well known as an adventurer, until he had went into retirement. He was well respected, and the previous admins of the sever had come to him for his wisdom before, not to brag or anything. Dream was right to be a little concerned.

Dream must have seen the dubious confidence on Phil's face, as he straightened up again, as if about to attempt a different tactic. "I hear your piglin hybrid is pretty powerful, is he not? I feel like he might be a valuable asset to use. He's going to do something deadly when he is older, mark my words. Or that Wilbur? Quite the brain on him. I'm sure he would be useful in a war office. He could be great if he was pushed over the edge." Dream laughed. Phil's blood turned to ice. "What was your last one called? Tommy, was it? He's young, but he has potential. I'm sure i could make something out of him, one way or another."

Phil snapped. His hand went to his belt with the practised precision of muscle memory as he grabbed his sword. He stood up with startling speed and took a few paces forward, latching Dream's arm in an iron grip. Dream grunted and tried to wiggle out from under him. He half-heartedly tried to pull away on instinct as Phil's grip tightened even more and pressed his sword to Dream's other side., before he could draw his own blade.

"Hurt them and I will kill you." Phil snarled. "I don't care how powerful you are. You are nothing more than a naive child, and you're in way over your head. You may be the admin but you know little of the ways of this world. You will not touch a hair on their heads or there will be hell to pay."

Dream's lips morphed into a thin line, and he yanked himself from Phil's grip, taking a moment to dust himself off before turning to face him again.

"Going against my orders could be considered a criminal offence, a high form of treason if I pushed the right buttons." Dream tutted condescendingly and Phil's knuckles itched with the urge to punch him. "I could get you locked up for life. And then who would protect your children?"

Phil didn't say anything. His mind was racing through all of the different outcomes of this conversation that would set his - their lives - in a completely new direction. "Don't, Dream." He said shortly, raising his sword up to block Dream's passage into the house.

"Don't what?"

"Don't turn children into soldiers because you're too much of a pussy to fight your own battles." Phil stood a little taller, fluffing his wings out further to block the door from Dream's sights.

Dream stilled. "You can't stop me." He barked out a laugh that grated in Phil's ears. "I could put you to death for even thinking of raising a hand against me."

"I don't care," Phil gripped the handle of his sword, dark eyes glimmering. Dream paused for a moment, before he drew his sword faster than a lightning strike, and swung it at Phil.

He ducked on instinct, and Dream took the opportunity to seize the door handle and pushing it open, past Phil into his house.

An arrow whizzed past Dream's head, barely missing it, and implanted in the wall beside him. Wilbur stood at the top of the stairs, crossbow clutched in his hands. He was backlit by the sun in the window, it glowed through his hair and he looked deadly, chestnut eyes glaring dangerously.

"Leave, Dream." His voice was commanding, and for a second, Phil forgot who this is. His son, of course, but the way he stood, with Techno to one side and Tommy the other, he looked like a king.

"Yeah." Tommy barked out a scathing laugh. "We don't listen to bitches, and you're the biggest bitch alive." Phil felt a thrill of pride. These were his kids. Defending themselves, standing up for themselves, protecting each other.

"You must be Tommy-" Dream began, but it was Techno's turn to cut him off.

"Did you hear something, Dad? I can't hear anything over the buzzing of a little bug." He said smugly, in his usual monotone voice.

Dream's jaw set, and Phil saw a vein bulge in his neck. He was very good at controlling and concealing his emotions, but Phil had been in the business for years. Humans were as easy to read as books if you paid attention to the right things.

“Dad?” Dream asked condescendingly.

Techno arched an eyebrow, tossing his long braid over his shoulder. “Yes. A dad. By the way you walk and talk, looks like one was absent from your childhood.” He lifted his chin so he was looking down on Dream even more. “It’s written all over your face. Poor baby Dream.”

Dream took a step towards the stairs, and that's when Phil's instincts kicked in. Dream wouldn't touch his kids, wouldn't hurt them. Over Phil's dead body.

He took a chance.

He grabbed Dream's arm and pulled him back down the stairs, and wrenching him out of the door. Dream stumbled momentarily in surprise, out of the door and down the steps of the porch.

Phil took the moment of stillness to his advantage, pulling his sword from the sheath. He brought it down as though about to stab Dream, but at the last heartbeat flipped the sword around and brought it over his head, smashing the hilt of the sword into his mask. All before Dream had a chance to draw his own sword.

A crack blossomed across the porcelain as Dream stood to his full height again. He touched the large break that reached down to one of the blank black eyes.

Dream's head tilted up. "Okay." He said finally. Tension crackled between the two. "Okay, fine. You win. I'll leave you alone."

"And don't come back." Phil said through gritted teeth. Dream shrugged but dutifully turned and started to walk away.

He paused, and Phil's heart leapt to this throat. If Dream decided to properly attack him, he wouldn't stand a chance. He only managed to break his mask because he took Dream by surprise. Hand to hand, or sword to sword, Phil wouldn't stand a chance. Especially because Philza hadn't actually fought many people. He had fought countless mobs and pillagers - who lacked any proper skill - but he hadn't fought many people. He was trained to fight mobs and disarm those who were a threat to him; he was so where near Dream's levels of skill.

But Dream didn't turn to attack him. He didn't even unsheathe his sword. "I won't forget what you did, Phil." He glanced over his shoulder. "Or, perhaps more importantly, I won't forget what you didn’t do." And he walked away.

Even after he vanished through the trees, Phil didn't move. He hardly breathed. Hand still latched tightly around his diamond sword. Dream could come back. He could come back and hurt Techno, hurt Wilbur, hurt Tommy.

Why had he risked it like that? It was as Dream had said, attacking the man could have been considered a war crime. Dream could come back and arrest Phil, and then he would be free to do whatever he wanted to his kids. A shiver went down his spine.

"They won't hurt Tommy." Wilbur's voice drew Phil from his thoughts. Wilbur was stood beside him, eyes unclear as he also stared out towards the tree line. Phil wondered when Wilbur grew so tall.

"How do you know?"

Wilbur swallowed, then turned around to face him. "He would never admit it, but Dream is scared of Techno. Almost like he sees him as a threat. He's becoming pretty famous for his skills." He laughed. "They're calling him the Blood God. Dream wouldn't risk hurting Tommy, or me, without hurting Techno first. And you won't let that happen, right?" Wilbur's eyes softened and as Phil watched him, his face opened, almost vulnerable with a childlike innocence.

Phil reached up and tousled Wilbur's hair. "I'll never let that happen, champ."

Wilbur grinned at him, all unease vanishing from his face, and the two made their way back to the house, where Tommy was leaping back and forth from foot to foot.

"Dad! That was so cool! You were all like 'whoosh!’ and 'bam!' and you broke that fucker's mask! You have to teach me how to do that, oh, please, please, please!"

"When you're older, Tommy," Phil replied calmly, warmth spreading through his chest, despite Tommy’s loud complaining.

Techno watched him quietly, as he retook his seat on the sofa, axe grasped in his arms. His blue eyes seemed to ask a question - are you okay? Phil gave him a small smile and nodded. Techno relaxed.

"If that fucker comes around, again, oh ho- just you wait-" Tommy started rambling again, as the other three collapsed onto the couch.

No matter how old they got, they would always be Phil's boys.


	6. Phil - House Arrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil is under house arrest. Sleepy bois inc band together to save him as repayment for all the time he saved them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE WERE ROBBED OF A RESCUE SCENE, ROBBED I TELL YOU
> 
> Emotional and physical hurt comfort up ahead!!
> 
> cw for like idk quackity being a bitch so like government brutality, and threats

He couldn't tear his eyes from the doorway. Philza Minecraft stared it down, a half melted smile still on his lips, slowly dripping away.

The door mat, stained and raggedy and stolen from his old house, his real home, read 'Welcome Home' and Phil's eyes deciphered the weathered letters for the fifth time now. His heartbeat was too loud over the words repeating in his head. What an unexpected thing to think of. As if this shithole wasn't self-aware enough and dared to call itself a home.

Phil went to shuffle forward, but the metal shackle around his ankle dragged against his skin and Phil paused.

Fucking Quackity.

A long, thick chain ran from the cuff around his ankle to the mantelpiece above his fire, twisting up like a snake, restricting his movements. Not to mention the innocent looking ankle monitor wrapped around his other leg, glowing a gross green.

A little excessive, much?

Phil drew himself up and dragged his leg over to the table and singular chair. He came to L'Manberg to be safe, to protect all of his kids from any more politics, any more destruction. He had wanted to bundle them up and take them on a holiday, away from all of the war.

Look at how well that turned out. One is dead - killed by his own hand - one is wanted, and the other is in exile.

Phil collapsed into the chair. the left side of his face throbbing in a reminder of what had happened the other day. He caught his reflection in the mirror. A large, green and yellow bruise, about a week old now, covered the entirety of the left side of his face.

He couldn't even really remember what had happened. He had opened the door to Fundy, then Tubbo barged inside, then Quackity, and Ranboo was there too, if he remembered correctly. They had searched his house, demanded something- demanded Techno- held a knife to his throat- found the compass-

After that it was a blur of mumbled apologies from Ranboo and Quackity's haute laughter. Phil had tried to convince him that it was fine, that he didn't need to use the chains, the ankle monitor was enough. But then they had brought Technoblade.

Quackity seemed to notice Techno's aggression and hostility when he saw Phil on his balcony, and had added the chains as an extra insurance in case Techno decided to attempt a jail break for Phil.

Maybe it was that. Maybe it was because Phil tried to smash a chair over his head when Quackity left himself exposed. Was that when he had been hit? Or had it been earlier, when they had found Techno's compass?

Phil set his jaw and pushed the pain down. He felt a little regretful for the way he disowned Fundy from his family that fateful day, but could anyone really blame him from the way he had been treated by his grandson?

His dignity had been drained away, and with it drowned his respect for the leaders of L'Manberg.

He was not physically hurt other than the bruise, apart from the angry-looking abrasions around his ankle, but Phil's mind was uneasy. An uneasiness that drew silent tears from his eyes. He had just brushed one away as another started to fall. Why was he crying? Techno had survived, hadn't he? There was no need for tears.

He was once again distracted from his thoughts by a frantic pounding on the door. Phil jerked up, a rope of panic stretching tightly around his heart. What if it was Quackity? Please, tell him it wasn't Quackity. A deep, cold dread set into his bones, a mixture of anxiety and exhaustion. Even before he was put under house arrest - when had Phil actually last had a full night of rest?

But before he could limp to the door, before he could even stand up, a slightly translucent, pale head stuck itself through the door.

"Hi Phil!" Wil, no, Ghostbur, said excitedly, drifting through the door entirely and for a moment simply floating in the middle of Phil's room. "How have you been?"

Phil rolled his eyes. "Ah, you know," He scoffed. "Under house arrest."

Ghostbur's big, dark eyes looked Phil up and down, eyeing the chain on the floor warily. He came a little closer, as if worried the chain would lash out and bite him.

He poked at the chain with a finger, before jumping back for a moment, meeting Phil's gaze with eyes as wide as saucers. "That doesn't look comfortable." He said lamely, as if at a loss of anything else to say.

"Yes, well. It's literally just a glorified version of being actually in-prisoned. It seems as though these fuckers haven't had time to actually rebuild their jail." Phil replied, but there was no bite in his words, no malice. He was soft. He was tired. God, Phil was so fucking tired.

"I..." Ghostbur looked lost for a moment. "Who gave you that bruise?" His open face was vulnerable and concerned. He looked the way he did when he was 8.

Phil ran a hand through his hair. "To be frank, I don't know. That whole day was sort of a blur. I can't remember much about the details, but now I am here." He tossed his hands up, before gently resting his head on the table.

"Do you need me to help bust you out?" He drew out a small, smooth, blue stone from his pocket and fiddled with it between his fingers.

"No, no. It's fine." Phil replied. If Wil, Ghostbur, tried to help him escape, then the president - Phil refused to regard him as the boy he helped raise - would automatically assume Ghostbur had been persuaded into doing so by Technoblade, making an even bigger target in his back. Phil felt his heart sink a little. He needed to keep them safe. He tried to smile, but it ended up as more of a grimace. "Did you need something anyways, champ?"

Ghostbur's face lifted into that of a small smile, still a little worried, but most of his anxiety had been pushed to the back of his mind. Phil suppressed a chuckle. Even as a ghost, Wil had been doing that since he was a child.

"I was wondering if you could look after Friend for a few hours, just while I run some errands?" Wilbur asked airily, drifting fruitlessly through the air until he was horizontal above Phil's stove. "You don't even have to move, just make sure they stay put for me."

"Who's Friend?"

Ghostbur melted through the wall, reappearing at the doorway a minute later, a lead clutched in his hand, a fluffy blue sheep at the other end, looking rather discontent. As the ghost struggled to push and pull the sheep through the door, Phil just stared.

Once he successfully got the sheep through the door, he patted Friend's head, and handed the leash to Phil.

"Friend is very important to me." His pale face dropped to solemn seriousness. "Don't loose them."

Phil just nodded in equal seriousness. "I won't let them out of my sight."

"Okay." Wil clapped his hands together. "I will go run those errands, be good Friend, buh-bye Phil!"

"Wait, Wilbur." Phil said, and his son paused by the door, swinging back to set his milky gaze on Phil.

"Yeah?"

"What errands are you doing to run?" It was a simple question, but the way Wil reacted made Phil's stomach sink in apprehension. His face twisted and his eye twitched, before he relaxed into his same placid smile once again.

"I'm going to go talk to Technoblade, of course." He laughed.

Phil tilted his head to the side, eyes straying to Friend and then back to the ghost. "To do what?" He knew Techno's relationship with Wilbur had been strained throughout their lives, from the moment Techno had left home, really. Phil figured their relationship had always been unstable, even as Wilbur became undead.

"To tell him to rescue you, of course! I don't have the power to help, not that much." He admitted. "But Techno- he can do anything! If anyone will help, and succeed, it's him!" Wilbur sent him a big toothy grin, and disappeared out of the door.

Phil sat there in shell-shocked silence, before his face melted into a gentle, relieved smile.

...

Quackity was at his door. Phil wasn't even given a second to say hello, to even breathe, when the man raised a sword to his throat. The freezing metal blade made Phil freeze, breath hitching in his throat.

"Hello, Quackity." He said, voice strangled. "What-"

"Don't talk." Quackity hissed, edging past him and into his house, sword still raised, inches from Phil's pulmonary artery, inches from ending his life. "You're going to answer my question, with the truth." His face was hard, but there was something deeper underneath the surface, something worried.

"What is it?" Phil asked drily, but hesistated when he saw the disguised worry on Quackity's face.

The other man took a heaving breath, looking down at the floor for a moment before up at Phil again. He set his jaw.

"Has Tommy come by? Are you hiding him?"

Phil frowned. "Tommy? What's wrong with Tommy? Isn't he in exile?" When Quackity didn't reply, Phil's heart seized. Something was horribly, horribly wrong. "Quackity?"

"Tubbo, umm- Tubbo found- he- he found-" Quackity's eyes fluttered closed, and his voice was softer this time. "He went to Logstedshire, and it was decimated. He found a tower, and- well-... Tommy's gone. He's missing. Is he with you? Do you know anything about this?"

"...No." Phil couldn't breathe. "No i haven't spoken with him since he was exiled."

"Oh."

"..."

"I mean, we don't want to assume the worst but Tubbo is really torn up about it. Are you sure you haven't seen him? He hasn't come to you? You're his dad, Philza. If he were to come to anyone, it would be you."

Tommy was probably fine. He just wasn't at Logsted. Phil's mind tried to console him. He stood up, edging away from Quackity and almost tripping on the chain. His whole body felt numb with shock, stumbling backwards.

Tommy was fine. It was fine.

Phil felt like he was watching from another body, watching himself, his blank face and horror-filled eyes. He bit his thumb, but he couldn't even feel the pain.

Quackity blinked at him. "Okay, well- if you haven't seen him. I'll go now." He looked defeated, before his eyebrows were knitted down into a frown again. His voice was harsher now. "Stay in your house Philza." And he slammed the door behind him. Phil flinched.

His ankle throbbed as he limped back over to his chair. Collapsing into it like the weight of the world lay heavy on his shoulders, Phil pressed his hands to his face. Even Friend, who was grazing on a bowl of raspberries on the other side of the room, paused to watch him curiously.

Tommy- his little Tommy- was dead? No, no he couldn't be. He wouldn't. Not loud, funny and stupidly obnoxious Tommy. The boy that had ran into Phil's room as a child, screaming about monsters under his bed, only to go running back to his room equipped with Phil's axe to slay the boogyman.

Not his Tommy that had cried when he had stepped on one of the flowers in the front garden. Not his Tommy that insisted on camping out in the living room with Phil when Wilbur had taken ill.

There was an emptiness in his chest, cold and hollow and his heartbeat echoed in the vastness. He couldn't lose another son. One had broken him, and he had mended his soul with Techno's smiles and Tommy's laughter and Wilbur's jokes. It was fragile at best. Even the best glue could not hide the cracks, could not hide the tears in his eyes and the hyperventilation after nightmares of murdering all of his sons.

If he lost another one; Phil might just shatter completely.

He stared numbly at the door, waiting for Tommy to burst in, an exhausted Techno in tow, to yell and scream and shout about everything and nothing at the same time. To spit about thrilling exaggerated battles and ramble about tales of kings and presidents stretched with his hyperbole.

But no one came.

A shameful part of Phil was glad Ghostbur did not show. Once glance at his undead son, sent off to war too soon and killed mercifully at Phil's own hands might send him spiralling with the knowledge that he had done that to his son. He had done that to his family.

If he had just been there for Tommy, visited him in exile, it could be different. Everything could be different. If he had gotten here sooner, everything could have been different. If he hadn't killed his fucking son, everything could have been different.

But he couldn't change the past no matter how hard he yearned. Reality was harsh and cold and mean. He had fucked up. He had failed his sons - the one thing he couldn't afford to fail. One simple mistake, one rescheduled visit to L'Manberg and his sons changed everything.

Phil was an idiot.

And Tommy was missing.

Wilbur was dead.

Techno was wanted.

Phil didn't even have the energy to move. He dragged his fingers down his face and let out a dry sob.

...

There was a scratching sound inside the wall.

No, less from the wall and more inside the floor. Phil hadn't moved from his position by the door, aching limbs and sore eyes numb in the wide sea of unconsciousness.

Rats?

Oh how he hated rats.

He felt exhaustion deep in his bones, making his movements heavy as he got to his feet to investigate. He had a small basement below the house, with a slipstream tunnel that connected the above-water house with the basement below the lake's water levels. Phil had argued that it was still apart of his house but he hadn't gone down into it in a few days. He just didn't have the strength.

Still, he limped dutifully towards the trapdoor, ankle throbbing every time he leant his weight on it - it had started bleeding the night before, skin rubbed raw by unforgiving metal, before Phil had managed to find some old bandages and wrap it up. Most of his supplies were at their base out in the arctic, food, too.

Phil shook his head and pressed his ear to the bottom of the wooden trapdoor, ears yearning and straining to hear anything. Strands of dirty blond hair tickled his cheek.

No, it wasn't rats. It sounded larger than the quiet niggling of rat's teeth, heavier. Phil sat up and went to open the trapdoor, when something appeared through it, a head, actually.

Phil startled back in shock. Ghostbur's head twisted back to smile at him.

"Hi, Phil!" He whispered excitedly.

Phil tried to quirk his lips into a smile. "Hullo, Ghosbur."

The ghost floated wholly through the trapdoor and into Phil's living space. He was grinning ear to ear, practically vibrating with apprehension - of what, Phil didn't know. He opened his mouth to say something, but was distracted when he saw the blue sheep trying to eat Phil's cactus.

"Friend-! You kept him safe!" Wilbur cried, joy creeping into his voice as he swam through the air over to Friend and latched his arms around it in an encompassing hug.

Phil rocked back on his knees. His ankle twinged. "Well, of course I kept him safe. You asked me to, Wil." He frowned lightly. "Where did you go? It's not like you to leave Friend alone for so long."

Wilbur smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I went to get Techno, to bust you out, of course!" He pushed himself off the back wall. "We need to hurry, now. I don't know if you realised, but Quackity does rounds past your house to check you're still inside every three hours or so. We should go fast."

"Go where?"

Ghostbur cocked his head. "Down, of course. Techno and Tommy are waiting down there. Let's go!"

Phil felt like he had been hit by a truck. Tommy? He was alive?

“W-Wil i can’t,” He stumbled over his words, feeling dizzy in the head. His tongue was too big in his mouth and his skull felt hot. “The shackle. I can’t break it. I don’t have a sword. Fundy took mine.”

Wilbur’s mouth made an ‘o’ of surprise, before he set his jaw tightly. “I’ll get Techno. Stay there!”

Phil wanted to scoff. Like he could move even if he wanted to. Tommy was alive? Living, breathing. His son, his kid, his boy? Phil’s legs itched and ached to move, even despite the pain, to rip through the shackle and hug his kids tightly and never let go.

The jerk and squeak of the trapdoor as it opened pulled Phil from his thoughts, and he offered Techno a weak smile as he clambered out. Even though he had seen him just a few days ago, Phil felt like this was the first time in an eternity he was able to see his son.

“Phil- Okay, I have flint and steel, so i’m going to have to weaken the shackle with fire before i can cut through it. It’ll mean there’s less chance of damage. For the monitor, I’ll just be able to slice it off-“

Phil interrupted by clambering to his feet and pulling Techno down and into a tight hug.

“You’re here.” He said hoarsely. Techno wrapped his arms around him with a squeeze.

“Of course i’m here, dad. You think i’d just leave you in this shithole with these assholes?”

Phil laughed and drew back, rubbing unshed tears from his eyes. Techno studied him for a moment, before getting to work, pulling out a flint and steel and setting a torch alight, holding the flame to the metal of the chain. It was warm against Phil’s skin, but Techno was careful and it did not burn him.

“You cut you hair.” Phil said lamely as Techno crouched and melted the shackle. Techno looked up, the shoulder length pink hair blowing around him. “It looks good.”

“Thanks.” Techno unsheathed his sword. “Tommy kept pulling it when we sparred; I took the advantage away from him.”

“He’s alive? Tommy?” His sons, they had come for him. Phil wanted to cry with relief. He was stupid to think they would not come, dangerous or not. They were all so strong, so strong in their own special ways. Phil’s heart swelled.

Techno paused, as he patted out the torch on the stone floor. “Yeah. He’s okay. Came to me when Dream blew up Logstedshire, apparently.”

Phil choked on his breath, all feelings of pride and warm sucked out of him. “Dream did what?!”

Techno didn’t reply this time, swinging his sword down and shattering the shackle as close to the ankle as he could get. Phil flinched back. His son must have noticed, as he was much more careful to simply cut and nick the leather clasp. It collapsed lifelessly onto the floor and Phil seized the damn thing before throwing it across the room.

“Who did that to you, by the way?” Techno asked lightly, but Phil could sense his darker tone beneath his pleasant surface.

He looked back at Techno, not answering the question, but with new determination. “Let’s go.”

Techno’s lips contorted into a smug grin, and he lifted up the trapdoor, gesturing for Phil to jump in. As he scaled down the ladder, his ankle twinged painfully.

He reached the bottom and leapt down into his basement. Ghostbur’s translucent form lit up the room in a cool glow, accompanied with a torch. Phil turned around. Tommy was there. Tommy was here. Icy blue eyes met dark green, and Tommy grinned.

“Phil! You’re here!”

Phil ran at him, throwing his arms around his son and holding him close. Tommy was here. The flush of blood in his cheeks and the thrum of a pulse in his neck and the fidget of his fingers. Tommy was alive.

“Phil-?”

“Hush, Toms. Just hug me.”

“Um, okay.” He obediently wrapped his own arms around Phil’s neck and pulled him in tighter. Phil sniffed and pushed back tears that threatened to spill past his eyelashes. He felt a cold hand encompass Phil, and he realised Ghostbur - Wilbur - had also joined the hug. An even bigger pair of arms swathed around all of them. Technoblade.

Phil’s ankle hurt, and he felt weak, his legs ached and he had. headache thrumming at the back of his mind. But he didn’t care. He was with his boys.

Tommy was the first to break the hug, wiggling from the hug with a few swears under his breath. Phil watched him. His boy seemed small, smaller than he had since he had first got his growth spurt. His iconic red and white shirt seemed to swallow his thin torso and skinny arms. He had bags under his eyes that looked almost like bruises. But he was smiling.

“We mined back from my sewer system!” Tommy said proudly, puffing out his chest. “It was Ghostbur’s idea, but Techno and I were the ones to mine!”

Phil took Techno’s hand, and Tommy’s in the other. He squeezed theirs tightly. Tommy’s was cold and thin, Techno’s was warm and large. Wilbur span around above them, rambling about anything and nothing.

Ghostbur, who couldn’t tell the difference between what was memory, what was daydreams and what was reality and was used to being ignored.

Techno, who had to battle his own inner thoughts and fight down is fits of range and anger and recover after being betrayed by his brothers.

Tommy, who had been exiled by his best friend, who had obviously been through some horrifying things and emerged on the other side somehow alive.

“Let’s go home.” Techno mumbled, handing his father a spare pick axe. Phil thanked him gently, and there was no real rush within his actions as they headed back across the tunnel and Techno covered it.

They had come, his kids they had come.

_Phil was already home_


End file.
